Christmas Traditions
by TokyoTwinkle
Summary: I found trivia of Christmas traditions of different countries and this story was born. Mentioned yaoi: Spamano, SuFin, USUK, and Giripan. Don't like, don't read. Review if you do read!


**Hey~! So, I was wrapping presents the other day and my sister had a Christmas music channel on TV. It played Christmas music all day and little bits of trivia were put on the screen. Some of them mentioned Christmas traditions of other countries, so I wrote them down and this came to be. If for some reason, there are some bits that are inaccurate or just completely wrong, tell me. I only got this story from the trivia I wrote down, I didn't do much research. Plus, it sometimes disappeared before I could write it all down.**

**Oh, and before anybody complains, yes, there are bits of yaoi in this. Those yaoi pairings are Spamano, SuFin, USUK, and Giripan. And before you start reading, I named Norway Erik. I was on a baby naming website looking up names for different characters, Erik was under male Norwegian names so I used it.**

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><p><em><span>Norway<span> gives a Christmas tree to England every year as thanks for his support during World War 2._

"And, here we go!"

As Arthur plugged in the lights, the room lit up with color. Erik smiled only on the inside; he had picked the best Christmas tree to give to the Englishman.

"You pick the best tree every year, Erik! You really have a sharp eye for beauty!"

"Thank you, Arthur; I'm glad you like your tree. I just can't thank you enough for your support all those years ago..."

Arthur smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "You don't need to thank me. What kind of gentleman would I be if I ignored you?"

Erik smiled, something he doesn't too often in front of others. Well, not the other Nordics at least. "Like I said, I can't thank you enough for your help..."

The two men fell quiet, looking at the lit tree in peace.

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><p><em><span>In Italy, it's a tradition for children to place their Christmas letter under their father's plate.<span>_

_In Spain, the _Plaza Mayor_ is a popular shopping market that is open throughout the Christmas season. There, parents often buy their children "_globos_" or balloons._

Antonio was surprised, but not unpleased. Not only had Lovino offered to make dinner, but he had actually did it. It was pizza of course, but Antonio didn't mind; Lovino made the best pizza in Europe. Plain mozzarella, large, delicious. Just the way Antonio liked it.

"Aw, Lovi! You didn't have to go through the trouble!" Antonio exclaimed as he sat down at the table.

"Shut up, bastard!" Lovino yelled from the other side of the table. Then his face turned red and he looked down, embarrassed. "I just... It's just that... It's Christmas..."

Antonio stood up and leaned over the table to peck Lovino's forehead. "_Gracias mi tomate,_ I'll have to bring you to the _Plaza Mayor_, maybe I'll by you _un globo_!"

"I told you to shut up!" Lovino jumped away from the table, fell backwards and broke his chair, then quickly stood up. His red face rapidly changed from embarrassed and shocked to calm but still embarrassed. He didn't look at Antonio, instead at the door. "I-I'll leave you alone now... Enjoy your dinner. _Ciao_..."

Lovino quickly left the room, leaving the broken chair and Antonio, who jumped up.

"Wait, Lovi!" The Spaniard tried to chase the other man, accidentally hitting the forgotten plate of pizza. When he did, the corner of an envelope became visible. Antonio just happened to notice it and stopped.

Antonio picked up the envelope and examined it. His name was written in red ink, in the Italian's handwriting. He blinked, wondering what Lovino wanted to tell him if he had to write it down. He opened the letter post-hast, pulling out a sheet of pale red paper with a holly border. On it was two simple words in ink.

**Look up.**

Antonio did, and saw a small plant being held above his head, green leaves and two red berries. Lovino was the one holding it up. The Italian gave the elder a small peck on the left cheek, before whispering in his ear.

"_Boun Natale._"

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><p><em><span>In Sweden, the oldest daughter dresses in white and sings "Santa Lucia" to wake up her parents. Also, a figurine of a goat – called Juldukk – is placed under the tree to protect the presents.<span>_

Peter made a mental note to never tell Arthur what he was about to do. Here he was, standing in front of Tino and Berwald's bedroom dressed in a white gown. A small piece of paper was in his hand; on it was written the lyrics to a song. He started to hate himself for not spending Christmas Day with Arthur, Swedish Christmas traditions were so much stranger than English ones. At least in England he would be able to play snapdragon. **(1)**

Peter glanced over towards the Christmas tree. A few presents were placed underneath with the Juldukk guarding them. The goat figurine was staring at Peter, almost daring him to near the presents and open them early. He gulped, looked back at his adopted parent's room, and pushed open the door.

Inside, Tino was silently sleeping, his head on Berwald's chest. Berwald himself was awake, staring at the Finnish man as he slept, his arm protectively wrapped around Tino; like the Juldukk protecting the presents.

When Peter entered the room, Berwald looked up at him, but didn't move. Peter only stared back, silently cursing the man for making this tradition... Then he held up the piece of paper and began to sing. **(2)**  
><em>"Natten går tunga fjät<br>rund gård och stuva;  
>kring jord, som sol förlät,<br>skuggorna ruva.  
><em>_Då i vårt mörka hus,  
>stiger med tända ljus,<br>Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia."__  
><em>Berwald continued to watch Peter sing, Tino was beginning to waken.

_"Natten går stor och stum  
>nu hörs dess vingar<br>i alla tysta rum  
>sus som av vingar.<br>Se, på vår tröskel står  
>vitklädd med ljus i hår<br>Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia."_

Tino yawned and rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed. Berwald didn't move his arms; instead he continued to watch Peter as if he was more interesting than Tino.

_"Mörkret ska flykta snart  
>ur jordens dalar<br>så hon ett underbart  
>ord till oss talar.<br>__Dagen ska åter ny  
>stiga ur rosig sky<br>Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia."_

Peter finished the song and looked up at Tino and Berwald. Now that the Finnish man was awake and the Swedish man had let go of him, Tino was sitting up and smiling.

"Ah... Peter that was beautiful! I didn't know that you knew how to sing that song in Swedish!"

"Peter doesn't..." He replied. "Peter had to write it down. Did Peter sing it right?"

Berwald decided to lie and not tell Peter that he was very off and didn't pronounce any of the words right...

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><p><em><span>The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe originated in England in the 17<span>__th__ century. And in old times, unmarried English women would eat gingerbread "husbands" in hope for luck in the love department._

"Hey, Arthur!"

Arthur turned around. He had been taking a walk outside his house and was now walking up the path to his porch. Alfred was walking up to him with a smile on his face.

"I was hoping to see you. Can we talk?"

Arthur blinked. Alfred wanted to tell him something? Why couldn't he just call him?

"Of course, Alfred. But get inside, you look freezing."

Once inside, both men hung up their jackets and scarves and Arthur offered Alfred some tea, which was politely declined.

'_Alfred is in a good mood today… Does he want something from me?'_ Arthur couldn't help but wonder. Maybe the American was in such a good mood because of the holidays. Yeah, that must be it.

"If you don't mind, Arthur, I have a favor to ask you."

…Well, the Englishman has been wrong before.

"What is it? Money?"

"No, nothing of that sort. I'm not here for politics. I just have a question to ask you. Plus, I haven't seen you in a while, so I came over."

"Oh? What is the question?"  
>"Those cookies you were eating the a few weeks ago, the gingerbread men."<p>

Arthur thought back to the last time he saw the American. They were in England and Arthur had just finished making cookies. Gingerbread cookies.

"What about them?"

"Women in your country used to make them."

"Yes… And?"

"By any chance… Were they gingerbread husbands?"

Arthur blushed furiously, looking at him with wide eyes over his tea cup. How the bloody hell did Alfred know what they were?

"W-why would you say that…?"

"Francis told me."

Damn that French bastard…

Arthur looked away and shut his eyes, trying not to look unnerved. He couldn't think of a comeback that would wipe the smirk off of Alfred's face. And unfortunately for him, Alfred began talking again.

"From what Francis also told me, you were looking for luck with love?"

Arthur made a mental note to strangle Frog Face at a later date. But for now, he had to get this American off of his back.

"What would make you think that I needed luck with that?"

"Did you purposely sit underneath the mistletoe?"

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he looked up. Seeing the small plant over his head, he jumped up and ignored the fact that he spilled his tea all over his lap.

"I DID NOT PUT THAT THERE!"

Alfred only hummed 'mm-hm' and continued to smirk. He knew that Arthur didn't put that there, Francis told him that too. It was the Frenchman who put it there. The younger of the two stood up.

"Kissing under the mistletoe began in your country. Back in the seventeenth century. Back when I was really young."

Arthur noticed the American advancing on him and stumbled backward into the side table next to his couch.

"Uh… Uh… Yes, I did come up with it, but- Yeaahaa!" Arthur fell backwards onto the ground. Damn that table, he would have to get rid of it later on.

"What kind of scream was that?" Alfred laughed as he knelt down next to Arthur. "Y'know, you're going to have to get that tea out of your cloths before it sets in…"

Arthur became aware of the large stain on his lap. He also noticed that he had made the drink a little too hot. But maybe it was him. Damn, it was him. The wanker he is… He caved in.

"...You're right, Alfred. ...Mind helping me get my clothes off so I can wash them?"

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><p><em><span>In Greek culture, kissing under the mistletoe is interpreted as a promise to marry your mate.<span>_

Kiku wasn't too fond of close contact, not unless it was with someone he was close to. Or the other person was cosplaying.

So when he got drunk at a Christmas party and kissed Heracles underneath the mistletoe, he didn't show his face for a few days. Partially because of a hangover, partially because of embarrassment.

Now he found himself caught in Heracles' grip in his house. Yao must've given him the key.

"Kiku, you were drunk, and so was I! You don't have to be embarrassed!" Heracles insisted. "Please, just talk to me!"

"No!" Kiku shouted and looked away, not daring to lock eyes with the Grecian. "It was improper and it was all my fault!"

"You were drunk, how could it be your fault?"

"It was my choice to get drunk!"

"You didn't know how high the alcohol count was!"

"It was my choice to drink!"

Heracles sighed, when Kiku was determined, he would get his way. And he was damn determined to not let Heracles see his face. The Grecian slackened his grip on Kiku's shoulders, pondering whether or not he should tear the hands away from Kiku's face.

"Look at me."

No reply. Kiku didn't move.

"Look at me."

Kiku mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said… Now that I kissed you…" Kiku didn't finish.

Heracles tilted his head like a cat, then pulled the Japanese man's hands away from his face. The face that he saw was bright red and ready to cry. Just too adorable. So Heracles leaned down and put his teeth on Kiku's earlobe. He squealed like a kitten.

"N-n-nyaah! H-Heracles-san, wh-what are you doing?"

Heracles just continued to nibble, stringing more whimpers from the Asian below him.

"Did you know?" Heracles licked the shell of Kiku's ear, which made him shiver. "In my country, kissing under the mistletoe can be interpreted as a promise to marry your mate."

Kiku looked at him for the first time, an expression on his face as if asking why he was being told this. "But… I'm not your mate…"

Heracles grinned. "Not yet~!"

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><p><em><span>Just countries talking about their traditions~! :3<span>_

The World Meeting was over, and the rain was heavy, so the nations decided to wait it out. Somehow, the conversation had turned to Christmas traditions.

"In my country, presents are exchanged on December fifth and children receive presents from Sinterklaas," Netherlands said. "He comes in a steamboat."

"Really?" Russia asked, looking at the Dutch man. "I call him Grandfather Frost!"

"I call him Dun Che Lao Ren," China said. "His name translates in to 'Christmas old man.'"

"In my country," Norway began. "children leave porridge for Nisse, the Christmas buck."

"Nissie?" America smiled. "We leave cookies and milk for Santa Claus and carrots for his reindeer, named Rudolph. He has a bright red nose that lets him see through the dark!"

"That sounds like something your children would believe, America, all fifty of them." England said, taking a sip of his tea. "And that wasn't meant to be an insult, so don't be offended. And before I forget, that poinsettia that you had in your house was gorgeous!"

"Thanks, England! Actually, Mexico was the one who first gave me one."

"Oh, that reminds me," India **(3)** leaned forward, "candy canes originated in my country! Stop pouting South Korea. They were originally straight, and then changed to resemble a Sheppard's cane!"

"Don't talk about candy," Italy told India. "I'm getting hungry! I could go for some pasta right about now!"

"…Speaking of food," France began, gaining the attention of the group. "oysters are a popular Christmas seafood in my country. Anybody else?"

"Well," Austria began. "I tend to have gluhwein – mulled wine – a lot more frequently this time of year."

"A beggar is given the first slice of the Christmas bread in my country," Greece stated, much more awake than he normally is.

"For the New Year, I toss dry beans in the corners of my house for good luck," Japan commented.

From the other end of the room, Australia made a sound through his glass of water. When he swallowed, he said, "Random comment: Mall Santas aren't allowed to say 'Ho ho ho' in my country. It's derogatory to women."

"Funny," Ireland **(4) **said. "I have a friend with the initials H-O. In my country, the youngest child lights the Christmas candle. And there's a legend that says that the Gates of Heaven open at midnight on Christmas Eve."

"Sorry to interrupt this conversation, but the rain stopped," Germany stood up and grabbed his coat. "Now we can leave."

As all of the nations began to go their separate ways, they continued to chatter excitedly on their way out the door.

"'Merry Christmas' in Danish is 'Glaedolg Jul'," Denmark told Finland.

"In Finnish it's 'Hyvaa Joulva'!"

"It's 'Joyeux Noel' in French!" France said, coming up next to the two Nordics with Italy behind him.

"Boun Natale!"

"Sung Tan Chuk Ha in Korean!" South Korea called from down the hall.

Poland pouted. "My way of saying it is like, so long. 'Wesolych Swiat Bozengo Narodzenia'!"

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><p><strong>(1) Snapdragon is an English Christmas game. The point is to grab a raisin from a burning bowl of brandy (It may be barley, I don't remember, the screen changed before I could finish writing it down)<strong>

**(2) ****(dot) mamalisa (dot) com / ?t=es&p = 1302&c=86**** That _should_ bring you to the English and Swedish translations of the song.**

**(3) Yes, there's an official character for India. He first appeared in the Hetaween 2011 special. (He showed up with Prussia, if you start to see those two shipped together, you know where it came from. Maybe it will be called Prudia? XDXDXD If you see it called that somewhere, tell me!)**

**(4) I made Ireland up. And what they (I don't know what gender to make Ireland) said about having a friend with the initials "H-O"? I was talking about my sister. Yeah, same one briefly mentioned above. I just had to report her on Facebook for hate speech. She's 23.**

**You can tell that it was kinda rushed at the end. The conversation just randomly changed sometimes... And that part with Australia, I wanted to put that in, no matter how out of place it was. Again, correct me if I'm wrong with some of this information. My only request from you is that you do it in a calm, mature manner. One last thing, I was too lazy for accents, that's why Sweden doesn't talk.**


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